Just like I promised myself, on Monday morning, after a day of rest, I ran. I didn’t run fast, or pretty, or far. In fact, quite the contrary, I ran slow (leisurely), ugly (though I liked my leggings), and close to home – to the 59th street lookout that shoots off Sutton Place to be exact. This is what it looked like to my left.
And to my right.
On mornings, when I have time for a lengthy workout but I’m not exactly in the right shape for a long run, this is one of my favorite places to go. It’s just about 1.5 miles from my apartment in midtown, and I use this amazing space with a view of the East River and Queensborough Bridge to stretch my legs, my hips, my back. I also use it to do squats, lunges, push-ups, tricep dips and other plyometric exercises.
Once I’m good and ready, I put my pink bedazzled headphones back on, and run the 1.5 miles home, whizzing by the illustrious U.N. building…
…to log a total of 3 short but oh-so-sweet miles. Plus, I didn’t skimp on the amount of time I exercised for, which makes me feel really good before heading to the office, where I sit for upwards of eight hours at a time.
This morning was really beautiful. 39 degrees, sunny, no breeze. To top it all off, I wore my 2012 Manhattan Half Marathon long sleeve shirt (beneath a thick purple Nike hoodie; I’m not one of those runners who heats up quickly in the winter). Putting it on made me feel like a real runner, though I’m really not sure why I don’t truly feel as though I fit into this category still.
Maybe it’s because I don’t own a Garmin; because I’ve only racked up a few races; because I estimate my mileage rather than measuring it to the nearest hundredth of a step. (Prior to this last half, to train, I ran somewhere between 10 and 11 miles according to my estimation – which I figured was good enough.)
I just can’t get myself to slap a pace, time or distance on something I love so much for the freedom it gives me. But that’s just me. I still haven’t quite figured out what to make of it yet. Maybe you can help me.
On another totally unrelated note, I’ve discovered the greatest jeans in the world. Which is weird, because I usually just slip into Uniqlo leggings every morning (the joys of working at a start-up). These Adriano Goldschmied gray skinnies will change your life. Seriously, I may as well have been wearing leggings. If I could afford them in every color, I would buy them. But I cannot. (The perils of working at a start-up.) I could barely afford to buy one pair, but I ripped my jeans straight down the rump last week while sitting cross-legged at my desk. That’s embarrassing.
And then, after a long but comfortably dressed day in the office, I came home to these.
I didn’t have a crystal vase lying around, so I cut the top off of a seltzer bottle and stuck ‘em right in. Yea, things are going OK. Happy first half of the week.
I’ve run in some amazing places in my life. The quiet rivers of Ann Arbor; the cobblestone streets of Prague; the swampy parks of New Orleans; the famous Georgetown canal. I even took to jogging (albeit short, non-speedy jogging) while vacationing in Jamaica this past Christmas. See, here’s Noah (I was running with the camera) staring back from the beach at the resort wondering why I was snapping pictures instead of working out efficiently so we could hit the breakfast buffet.
They say that The High Line brought commerce back to The Meatpacking District and the (far) west side of Manhattan. That’s great and all; I’m a fan of The Brass Monkey for booze and Scoop’s extra-40-off-already-on-sale-items sales. My favorite part about this ultra-chic area of the city isn’t for the luxe fashion (DVF, swoon), celebrity sightings and overpriced eggs benedict though. It’s The High Line: a fabulous space when you can get there early enough. Spanning the length of 14th street to somewhere near 30th (vague, sorry), The High Line is the ultimate Zen in Manhattan, even in the winter when the lush greenery is replaced with brownish, dried out sticks.
